Tobias Iaconis

“Lighten up, Stella,” I say, sauntering to the door. “It’s just life. It’ll be over before we know it.”

She’s fighting for her life,” she finally says, meeting my eyes in the glass. “She doesn’t know what’s ahead of her or why she’s fighting. It’s just . . . instinct, Will. Her instinct is to fight. To live.”

“But no nudes,” she adds. She’s taken her face mask off and I can see her lips twitching into a smile. The first one she’s given me. She’s making a joke.

Stella Grant is making a joke.